roots
by songs
Summary: Drabble series. Zuko and Katara, born into the Republic City timeline; — ო zutara.
1. Chapter 1

**title:** roots

**pairing: **zuko ო katara. au.

**summary: **Zuko and Katara meet in Republic City. Drabble series.

**disclaimer: **own nothing.

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Katara doesn't pay him much mind, when they first meet.

She's been sneaking around the shabbier districts of Republic City for a few weeks, now; her father and Sokka have spent the greater part of their month-long residence in the capital taking part in political meetings. Her father is, after all, the ambassador of the Water Tribes. And Sokka, is, _after all_, male, and Chief Hakoda's _only son_ and therefore allowed to attend such meetings, while Katara—"The Girl/The Chief's Daughter"_—i_s simply left to her own devices in their penthouse hotel-suite.

Needless to say, Sokka half his time whining about how jealous he is of her "freedom".

("It's not fair!" Sokka huffs over dinner. "While _I _slave over blueprints and notes, all _you _do is chomp down on over-priced fruit and buy earrings. Or something."

"Yeah, Sokka." Katara rolls her eyes. "I just _love_ being excluded from important political decision-makings based on the fact that I'm a _girl."_

"But _you _get to go to all those cool market-things!" Sokka takes an _enormous _bite of meat. "You could also, I dunno, _make friends. _All I got was one glimpse of this _gorgeous_ girl at one of the meetings—I think her name was Yue—_"_

Katara decides to stop listening, after that.)

Sokka does have a point, though.

She _should _be making friends.

But, in reality, she's spent the past month snooping, listening around for news and gossip in the poorer districts. She's spent most of her allowance on _newspapers, _as opposed to the jewelry and fruit her brother oh-so-lovingly assumes she splurges on.

Katara wants to be informed. While her dad and brother get the hands-on experience, she's decided to figure out the world's happenings on her own, _without _depending on Sokka's nightly, less-than-legal relays of information.

And, to be honest, while it's nice to know how the fish trade is going between the Northern and Southern Water Tribes, she is much more interested in more tenuous events.

Like the growing tension between the Fire Nation and the rest of the world after the crowning of Fire Lord Ozai several years ago. The missing Fire Prince. The building of bending schools throughout the United Republic. The blooming Equalist movement, which has been birthed in retaliation towards the Four Nations' lack of acknowledgement towards the non-bending minority.

And the Avatar.

Not even her _father _knows much about the Avatar. He's been missing for one hundred years, since the founding of Republic City and the tentative treaty between the Four (technically, at the moment, Three) Nations. Some claim to have met him. But the cycle dictates that an airbender is next in line, and they have been extinct for over a century.

Some believe that because the world itself is off-balance, the chain of Avatars has ended. Others have hope.

Katara has hope.

And, when her stomach growls unceremoniously as she walks down the city streets, she decides that she _also _has to eat.

She feels for the chiming coins in her pocket, eying the street-vendors for something appetizing. She's about to settle for some pseudo-sea-prunes on a stick when she spots a shop she hasn't seen before: _The Jasmine Dragon Café_.

Katara can't help but smile at the thought of tea and pastries. She smirks, sauntering up the shop-steps, twirling a small string of water around her finger-tips in content.

Maybe Sokka will have something to be jealous of, after all.

As she slips through the door, she notices: the strong scent of tea and spices, the old, jolly owner of the shop greeting her brightly, and a tall, dark-haired waiter with a bright, blaring scar on one side of his face.

Katara beams as she seats herself at a table near the windows. But her mind sifts elsewhere: towards the Avatar, waterbending practice, her brother and father, the Equalists, the threat of war, the Fire Nation—and so she barely registers the scarred waiter placing a glass of water on her table, not until he speaks:

"Hi." His voice is raspy, low. A little awkward, even. "My name is Lee, and I'll be taking your order."


	2. Chapter 2

**title:** roots

**pairing: **zuko ო katara. au.

**summary: **Zuko and Katara meet in Republic City. Drabble series.

**disclaimer: **own nothing.

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**A/N:** Thanks so much for your awesome response to chapter one! Your reviews mean so much and keep me writing! Here is chapter two for being so awesome!

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Katara blinks, once, twice.

She feels ashamed to admit it, but her eyes zero in on comet of his scar before anything else. From afar, she couldn't make out much; up close, she can tell that it is old—the puckered skin is a muted red—painful-looking, but lingering.

Lee seems to notice this, and his gaze hardens, but he doesn't budge.

And then Katara remembers herself. Her neck goes scarlet as she jerks away, eyes snapping down at the menu. She reads off the first thing she sees, barely processing the words:

"I'll have the jasmine tea—and, um fruit tart special." A beat passes, and she chances a glance upwards before adding, "Um. Please."

Lee's face is blank as he says, woodenly—as if he's recited it a million times, "It'll be right up, miss."

He reaches over to take her menu, and Katara's brain-to-mouth-filter topples into itself.

"Katara." Confusion pools into the gold of his eyes. "Um. My name, I mean. It's Katara—not miss."

She wonders if he hears the apology in her voice. His gaze softens, but a moment later, he has her menu in his hands and he is gone.

Another waiter—an older man—brings Katara her tea and cake, and she feels guilt settle her stomach.

Katara scans the shop for Lee, even long after her cup is empty and plate is dotted with crumbs.

She doesn't spot him.

When she leaves the café, she realizes that in the hours she's spent there, she hasn't read a single page of her newspaper.

X

That night:

"Make any friends today, sister dearest?" Sokka asks, as she chops vegetables for a salad. "I'm telling you, you'll be a lot less grumpy."

Katara thinks of Lee, his scar, and her stare. "No, I haven't," is all she says, before turning away as he prattles on about the girls he's seen at the meetings and meat and things Katara can't quite make room for in her mind.

X

She stays up until morning reading up on news articles. One passage that catches her eye in particular contains a section from one of Fire Lord Ozai's most recent speeches, where he declares the Fire Nation's right to build up its army—with men and weapons—going completely against the treaty restrictions set from the world war nearly a century ago.

Katara knows that Earth and Water will be in outrage. She knows the Equalists will go ballistic, preaching for their disadvantage as non-benders against the aggressive Fire-warriors.

She sighs, digs her nails into her palms, and, even with this sense of knowing, feels utterly _useless._

There's a small, black and white picture of Fire Lord Ozai near the article; it makes Katara shiver. His face is sharp, angular, and oddly familiar in a way that makes her bones shift.

He looks refined, poised, yet, _somehow,_ internally feral, like a man on the ends of his wits. Fire Lord Ozai, in the past years, has lost, in one way or another: his wife, his son, his brother, his father, and now, Katara decides, his sanity.

As Katara folds the paper away and begins to bend water through her hair, she can't shake off the familiarity in Fire Lord Ozai's face.


	3. Chapter 3

**title:** roots

**pairing: **zuko ო katara. au.

**summary: **Zuko and Katara meet in Republic City. Drabble series.

**disclaimer: **own nothing.

**notes: **please leave a review if you enjoy this! they make my day :)

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Katara avoids the Jasmine Dragon for three days.

It isn't on purpose, really. She passes by the café every morning, change-purse in hand, but can't quite make it up the steps and into the shop.

Maybe it's guilt. Maybe it's pride. Katara doesn't like hurting people, but she hates hiding from her problems even more.

So, after half of a week of subconsciously boycotting the only tea-shop in town, Katara trudges towards the Jasmine Dragon, ready for whatever awkwardness lying ahead.

She is only a block away from the shop when a crowd of people catch her eye; there are over a dozen civilians, all bunched together, eyes wide and clear as they peer up at a boy standing on a makeshift platform.

"The benders are the _enemy—_" She can tell, even from afar, that the boy is charismatic, confident; there is an edge of leadership shaped into the words. "For centuries, they have had the advantage. And now, they are keeping crucial information from common civilians like you, like _me, _simply because we do not have power over the elements."

Katara sweeps into the budding crowd, eying the shaggy-haired boy, words on the tip of her tongue—

"The missing Fire Prince has been spotted, recently, in Republic City!" the boy yells out. Gasps illicit from the crowd, and Katara's own ocean-eyes widen. "But none of _you _would know this. Only the elite, bending party members were made aware of this dangerous fugitive's whereabouts. It is only a matter of time before the Fire Nation attacks to recapture their missing royal. But were any non-benders made aware? Despite the fact that we have less means of defense? _No_!"

Furious chatter:

"How dare they?!"

"We must find the Fire Prince at once!"

"Jet, Jet, how do you know all this?"

Katara's ears perk. Jet. His name is Jet.

And Jet sure knows how to work a crowd.

"Equal rights for all! The Equalists shall overcome!"

"Equalists! Equalists! Equalists!"

The chants are deafening, and Katara suddenly feels very, very small, very out of place. There is water at the tips of her fingers, but she smothers it in an instant, and swallows whatever words she may want to say.

Because, if he is telling the truth, Jet is _right._

In places like Republic City, which is predominately a bending society, non-benders have never had equal rights.

Her brother and father have even admitted, despite their high rankings, to have been treated as inferior to other bending leaders and ambassadors.

And who is Katara to argue with that?

But she wishes that these people could realize that not all benders are like that. She is not like that.

But, from the corner of her eye, she spots a tall figure in a hooded cloak parting from the crowd.

The sight is so old-world, so jarring, that she finds herself following the man with her eyes, and then with her steps, until there is a rift between her and the Equalist rally.

He makes a swift turn into an alley, and Katara catches a wide glimpse of his face—

Red. Scar-tissue.

Lee.

Katara doesn't even think as she follows.


	4. Chapter 4

**title:** roots

**pairing: **zuko ო katara. au.

**summary: **Zuko and Katara meet in Republic City. Drabble series.

**disclaimer: **own nothing.

* * *

Katara walks on her toes as she follows Lee down the alley; she keeps a distance between them, and when he jerkily glances over his shoulder, she quickly slips into the apartment-domed shadows, remaining undetected.

It happens in a second; she is trailing behind him one moment and the next he's gone, disappeared—and Katara suddenly goes very, very still.

Did he find her? Did he see her?

Her eyes dart from one side to the other, searching, frantic. Where could he have gone? How did he just _vanish?_

Panic is creeping under her skin, ready to burst, when she spots it: a dark, dirty, barely-open door at the base of the building, between two, first-floor entrances to the apartment-rooms.

She swallows, and steps forward. She takes in a breath, before glancing her palm over the old wood, anticipating the loud creak before she hears it.

"Crap," she whispers, before she sighs in relief when she isn't jumped and pinned to the nearest wall. Her eyes adjust to the dark in a few moments, and she eyes the stretch of a downward, spiraling staircase with unease.

_What am I doing? _she asks herself, a coldness settling inside of her. _This is stupid. I should go back—_

Then she hears it: a wisp of a voice at the base of the stairs, and then another, and then she is walking, stepping on her heels, careful to be as silent as possible.

The voice comes again, and she recognizes the rasp of it: Lee.

"Uncle told me to bring you this."

A pause, the sound of shuffling cloth.

"...More herbs? _Really, _Sparky?" The voice is that of a girl: young and bright.

An impatient grunt. "He said that you'll need them to get better."

The girl makes a huffing sound, and Lee continues: "If you don't take your medicine you'll just be stuck here longer."

"Ah, just can it already. It's probably just the flu. A bad cold." There is another rustling sound, like bed-sheets moving, and then, the girl says, so quietly that Katara has to strain to hear. "But thanks, Zuko. For helping me out. You're not half bad for a spoiled, Fire-Nation prince—"

"_Toph_!" he hisses, silencing her, but Katara has heard enough.

Zuko. Lee. The Fire Prince's name is Zuko.

Katara remains planted in place, suddenly cold, suddenly hollow; _has she heard right? _Zuko? _Prince Zuko... is Lee?_

Her gaze trails back to the door, just below. She doesn't move, doesn't breathe, and there is silence, for a moment, before a volley of fire shrieks through the opening.

For a moment, she is still, and then she _runs. _Her feet are loud and clambering against the stair-steps—in her panic, Katara loses her grace.

She's made it halfway up the second staircase when she hears him running up behind her; she spares a glance backwards, and almost falls into herself at the sight of _flames._

Firebending. Fire-Nation prince.

Prince _Zuko_.

"You _spy_!" he roars.

She can't help it: she screams, and, from the running sewers just outside, pulls out a few splashes of water. Breathing heavily, she plows through the still-open door and into the streets, Lee—no, _Zuko—_hot on her trail, when she shrieks:

"The Fire Prince is here!" She bolts into the Equalist crowd, and they crowd around Zuko, who has stopped, the remnants of flames on his fists. "It's _him_!"

In the moments after that, Katara remembers:

The Jasmine-Dragon's owner, Mushi, stepping out into the crowd with a pained look in his eyes. Jet grinning madly, reaching for a weapon. The crowd, both equalists and benders alike, forming a crescent around Zuko, wild looks in their eyes. Fire. Weak water in her hands. Being trampled by shoulders, feet, hands. Strong arms. A blunt object. Falling.

And then, nothing.


	5. Chapter 5

**title:** roots

**pairing: **zuko ო katara. au.

**summary: **Zuko and Katara meet in Republic City. Drabble series.

**disclaimer: **own nothing.

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**author's note: **A lot of you were surprised that Katara turned Zuko in. Ahh, perhaps that was a bit OOC, but I based it off of the episode when she saw Zuko in the Jasmine Dragon and went to report it to the Earth King. I added a bit of reason as to why, as well. Hope you enjoy this!

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When Katara blinks her eyes open, she notices two things:

She's moving. She's moving _and _she sees a blur of porcelain-white and gold and green and then, as the figure turns, a smear of red, and she jolts, suddenly aware.

_Zuko._

Her surroundings are instantly clear as crystal. "I'm—" She eyes Zuko, whose hands are wrapped around a steering wheel, and then lets her gaze dart through the half-broken windows. "We're in a Satomobile," she says, voice thin.

Zuko scoffs, to himself. "Deductive."

Katara eyes the stream of trees just outside of the car, recognizing none of the open green. Her tone goes shrill when she screams, "You—you _kidnapped_ me!"

Zuko winces a bit, tries to speak as he turns left, "I—"

"Let me out _this instant, _or so help me, _Fire Prince Zuko,_ I will drown you in your own tears, and waterbend you to your grave—"

"Shut _up_!" Zuko exhales fire, and Katara stills, cold awareness washing over her. She doesn't has have any water. She is out of her element, and even so, she hasn't been trained.

Prince Zuko—trained by the cutthroat Fire Nation, the same Nation that took away her _mother _so many years ago, during the age-old war that seems to be rekindling, growing, day after day.

Zuko is dangerous.

She remembers her blind panic upon hearing his name, connecting the word to his face—marred, so unlike the royal portrait posted in the newspapers. She remembers the sudden, inexplicable, candle of hate that lit within her at the thought of this Prince of patches roaming free, when her mother was cold and lifeless.

She feels something like guilt—perhaps, Zuko had become Lee. He was helping some girl, after all. Perhaps he had wanted to start a new life.

And she destroyed it. Like the Fire Nation destroyed her mother.

And now he's on the run.

And he took her with him—and on his own whims, with just a flicker of fire, he could prevent her from ever seeing Sokka or her father (oh, La, they must be so, so worried) again.

Katara clears her throat, deciding to try again. Her tone is softer, but it just sounds _afraid. _

"Where are you taking me? Where are you running to?" she asks, and is met with silence. She remembers the Equalists, the crowd set on capturing him, and she pushes, "Did you kill those people? Why are you taking _me_? _Why_?"

Zuko sets his jaw, swallows, and says nothing.

Katara feels her soul sink.


	6. Chapter 6

**title**: roots

**pairing: **zuko ო katara.

**summary: **Drabble series. Zuko and Katara, born into the Republic City timeline.

**disclaimer: **do not own.

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Katara doesn't dream. Her sleep is reluctant and jerking and fitful: a push-and-pull of half-consciousness and half-darkness. She doesn't know how many hours—_days_?—it has been since Zuko took her—now, she only knows the green, gangly forest-trees that whisper through the car-window, and red of Zuko's scar, the way he gives her more food and water than he does himself, the way he locks the doors and windows, the way he grasps her wrist when he catches her attempting to bend water, the sad look in his eyes as he gazes at the open road.

She hates him.

Katara _hates _him.

She doesn't speak to him, and her silence, she hopes, speaks volumes. She almost refuses his food and water, but she knows she needs to replenish herself, needs to regain her strength, needs to coil in as much as she can to let it burst in water and ice and power—she needs to escape him, and she needs to _soon._

X

She feels something hard and strong wrap around the bend of her wrist, and her eyes snap open to the sight of Zuko, pulling her out of the Satomobile. She almost screams, but she then catches sight of the small town in the distance, and then the look in Zuko's eyes.

"You won't run away," he says, slowly, as if speaking to a child. "You won't, okay?"

"Why wouldn't I?" she spits, voice a low, alto-hiss. "I should scream. I should scream and shout and spew knife-water into your _bones, _you _monster, _so the least I can do is _run away._"

His hold on her wrist goes tight, and she barely represses a wince. "You won't run away. My Uncle is still in Republic City." His eyes go hard. "I know your brother and father are there, too.

Katara's eyes widen—blue, eratic moons gone murky, clouded with shock, _fear—_"How did you know that? _How did you_—"

"…You talk. In your sleep," he says, only it isn't cruel, or proud, only hollow, only a bit sad—and if Katara didn't hate him so much, she would swear there was something like an apology, something like regret.

"I—"

"—won't run away." He cuts her off, and there is a meaningful look in those gold, gold eyes, and Katara feels her blood run cold.

"What do you _want _from me?" she whispers. She hates the girlish, broken sound of her voice. "Why are you doing this?"

He stares at her for a long moment—first, her eyes, then her hair, and then—_she shivers_—a moment too long at the part of her lips, and then her eyes again. He seems to read the fear in her eyes, and lets go of her, and she can see the walls in his gaze fall, for only a split-second, and there is worry, there is fear—timid and childlike—before they come up again, before he steels himself and says, a rasp in his throat:

"You can bend water."

_Well, that explains everything, _Katara wants to snap, but she only says, "So?"

"I was in hiding. And now I'm not." There isn't any blame in his voice, but Katara, despite it all, still feels a pang of guilt for what she had done. "And you… you can bend water—"

"What does that matter?!" she half-shrills. "What does it matter, Prince Zuko? I bend water, you bend fire, and now you've got me trapped. What does it _matter?"_

"You can heal," he says, very, very quietly, and the first thing Katara's eyes snap to is his scar, and then his eyes—_oh, she thinks_, oh—and she holds his gaze for a moment, before she catches a certain fragility in his gaze, and before he looks away.

"That's not what I meant," he says, tone soft, barely above a murmur. "It's not safe for me anymore. Or my Uncle. I need a healer."

It sounds like a lie, but she says nothing. She can't bring herself to speak.

With that, he turns on his heel, back towards the car, and Katara—who can barely bend, nonetheless heal—follows, wordless, cold, and _alone. _


End file.
